Post by Sir Dmitrii Zurban on Jun 5, 2008 13:53:23 GMT -6
Arrival
The note was handed to Dmitrii by his head servant, Erin… “M’Lord, t’was delivered by a messenger for Sir Robert.” Dmitrii nodded and opened the note, his eyes narrowing, a questioned look upon his face. “Erin, I shall be gone for a few days… Send word to Lord Adam and let him know I shall be unavailable.” The servant bowing and leaving the room.
The two men, Sir Robert and Dmitrii met, as arranged, in a small tavern dockside; drinking ales, waiting for the passengers to disembark. Sir Robert Frail was an imposing figure, with a large muscular frame of a man in his mid forties. Something about him always disheartened people. His movements, slow and calculated, his eyes are always scanned the area, even when he spoke to you. When his eyes fall upon you, you feel as if he is seeing through you to what you hide, and that he knows just what it is. His clothes are made of dark dyed wool, and his sword stuck into a leather belt. Unbeknownst to many, in the sanctuary of his home, he continues his prayers of a Templar in secrecy. To look upon him, his wealth is not advertised as many would suspect. He is a strong good-hearted person with a dark past.
The passenger they awaited stepped upon the gangplank; a short, chubby man, in his forties, with a noticeable paunch and rounded, almost boyish looking features. Jacques Armand, his hair cut to a medium length, brushed back from his face settling in neat, oiled waves. His hair been noticeably dyed to a near black, his arching, delicate eyebrows slightly different in color. He has close set, dark blue eyes and a small, somewhat flattened nose, with chubby jowls framing his wide, pouting mouth. His rounded, pudgy chin has a scar that runs to his throat. His hands are marred by both scars and callus. This man has a secret past known only to a special few. He is a fine businessman, who lives within means, not spending the suspected wealth of a Templar.
As Jacques stepped on to the pier, Sir Robert and Dmitrii met him, each shaking his hand in welcoming him back home. Sir Jacques Armand has just returned from two months in France on a fact-finding mission and now he was ready to share his findings with Sir Robert.
Explanations
The three men made their way to the Pubs at Dockside. Dmitrii had asked Willa to assist him and make sure they had a place to discuss things upstairs. Opening the door, Dmitrii found Willa waiting inside. Looking to the other men, who had questioned look upon their faces… he smiles… “Fear not, the lass is with me. She helped me set this up… and she knows about the Church…”
Sir Jacques Armand sat with Robert, Dmitrii, and Willa. Looking around for any listeners, he continued…
“The group I was with, were near Rennes-le-Chateau, above the village of Coustaussa. We were not prepared for what we found… it was astonishing… we found on the hillside, not just a few, but hundreds mayhaps thousands - of beehive shaped stone structures were scattered across the countryside as far as the eye could see...” his hands gestured as he spoke… “Some were in good repair, perhaps built and re-built over centuries, others just collapsed heaps of stones. Looking at them, you could tell they had been solid buildings, erected to last forever…” the French accent lathered more than usual due to his excitement. “Each structure contained a small room with a doorway and a narrow window. Some were square, some rectangular, some curricular, some oval.” He drew shapes with his hands. “Each had a beautifully and skillfully constructed dry-stone roof. Some seemed to be completely solid, with no interior chamber, which I found odd…”
He sat back in his chair and took a hefty drink of his ale… setting the tankard back down, looking at the pair… Taking a deep breath… “Higher, upon the hillside, we found a stretch of double wall, at great lengths, with traces of reinforcements, I believe defensive ramparts...” Then a smirk came upon his face… “Could this the city? ...Reddis, the ancient name of Rennes-le-Chateau, also known by the Romans as Aereda, the ancient and legendary city of the Visigoths?” Laughing… “And yet, no other trace of Aereda has so far come to light."
The Sir Robert nodded, looked to Dmitrii and Willa, and began to speak… “Merovingians were a family of priest-kings from France, in the Rennes-le-Chateau region. They were enigmatic, long-haired fellows who all shared the same birthmark - a red cross on their shoulder. They even claimed that they were descendents from Christ and Mary Magdelen. They were betrayed and murdered by the Catholic Church who replaced them with the Carolingian dynasty.” Then he smiles… “The Merovingians may not have ruled, but they still had power… especially since every Carolingian king starting with Charlemagne married a Merogivian princess.” Dmitrii looked at the two Templars, then to Willa. Sir Robert glanced to Jacques, who nodded in return. “Dmitrii… we are sword brothers… we have bled together… we are trusting you…” then he looks at Willa. “You M’Lady… may be deeper in this than you think…”
The note was handed to Dmitrii by his head servant, Erin… “M’Lord, t’was delivered by a messenger for Sir Robert.” Dmitrii nodded and opened the note, his eyes narrowing, a questioned look upon his face. “Erin, I shall be gone for a few days… Send word to Lord Adam and let him know I shall be unavailable.” The servant bowing and leaving the room.
The two men, Sir Robert and Dmitrii met, as arranged, in a small tavern dockside; drinking ales, waiting for the passengers to disembark. Sir Robert Frail was an imposing figure, with a large muscular frame of a man in his mid forties. Something about him always disheartened people. His movements, slow and calculated, his eyes are always scanned the area, even when he spoke to you. When his eyes fall upon you, you feel as if he is seeing through you to what you hide, and that he knows just what it is. His clothes are made of dark dyed wool, and his sword stuck into a leather belt. Unbeknownst to many, in the sanctuary of his home, he continues his prayers of a Templar in secrecy. To look upon him, his wealth is not advertised as many would suspect. He is a strong good-hearted person with a dark past.
The passenger they awaited stepped upon the gangplank; a short, chubby man, in his forties, with a noticeable paunch and rounded, almost boyish looking features. Jacques Armand, his hair cut to a medium length, brushed back from his face settling in neat, oiled waves. His hair been noticeably dyed to a near black, his arching, delicate eyebrows slightly different in color. He has close set, dark blue eyes and a small, somewhat flattened nose, with chubby jowls framing his wide, pouting mouth. His rounded, pudgy chin has a scar that runs to his throat. His hands are marred by both scars and callus. This man has a secret past known only to a special few. He is a fine businessman, who lives within means, not spending the suspected wealth of a Templar.
As Jacques stepped on to the pier, Sir Robert and Dmitrii met him, each shaking his hand in welcoming him back home. Sir Jacques Armand has just returned from two months in France on a fact-finding mission and now he was ready to share his findings with Sir Robert.
Explanations
The three men made their way to the Pubs at Dockside. Dmitrii had asked Willa to assist him and make sure they had a place to discuss things upstairs. Opening the door, Dmitrii found Willa waiting inside. Looking to the other men, who had questioned look upon their faces… he smiles… “Fear not, the lass is with me. She helped me set this up… and she knows about the Church…”
Sir Jacques Armand sat with Robert, Dmitrii, and Willa. Looking around for any listeners, he continued…
“The group I was with, were near Rennes-le-Chateau, above the village of Coustaussa. We were not prepared for what we found… it was astonishing… we found on the hillside, not just a few, but hundreds mayhaps thousands - of beehive shaped stone structures were scattered across the countryside as far as the eye could see...” his hands gestured as he spoke… “Some were in good repair, perhaps built and re-built over centuries, others just collapsed heaps of stones. Looking at them, you could tell they had been solid buildings, erected to last forever…” the French accent lathered more than usual due to his excitement. “Each structure contained a small room with a doorway and a narrow window. Some were square, some rectangular, some curricular, some oval.” He drew shapes with his hands. “Each had a beautifully and skillfully constructed dry-stone roof. Some seemed to be completely solid, with no interior chamber, which I found odd…”
He sat back in his chair and took a hefty drink of his ale… setting the tankard back down, looking at the pair… Taking a deep breath… “Higher, upon the hillside, we found a stretch of double wall, at great lengths, with traces of reinforcements, I believe defensive ramparts...” Then a smirk came upon his face… “Could this the city? ...Reddis, the ancient name of Rennes-le-Chateau, also known by the Romans as Aereda, the ancient and legendary city of the Visigoths?” Laughing… “And yet, no other trace of Aereda has so far come to light."
The Sir Robert nodded, looked to Dmitrii and Willa, and began to speak… “Merovingians were a family of priest-kings from France, in the Rennes-le-Chateau region. They were enigmatic, long-haired fellows who all shared the same birthmark - a red cross on their shoulder. They even claimed that they were descendents from Christ and Mary Magdelen. They were betrayed and murdered by the Catholic Church who replaced them with the Carolingian dynasty.” Then he smiles… “The Merovingians may not have ruled, but they still had power… especially since every Carolingian king starting with Charlemagne married a Merogivian princess.” Dmitrii looked at the two Templars, then to Willa. Sir Robert glanced to Jacques, who nodded in return. “Dmitrii… we are sword brothers… we have bled together… we are trusting you…” then he looks at Willa. “You M’Lady… may be deeper in this than you think…”
